As John emerged from the apartment bathroom, Finch wondered at the faint hint of cologne in the air. Had John actually spritzed himself with cologne? Who knew John even owned anything like that; from what Finch could tell John didn't own much of anything. As Finch looked over at John in wonder, he started to take in a few more details: his hair was particularly neatly parted and smoothed down, and there wasn't a hint of the usual slight scruff on his cheeks. Finch's brilliant mind stumbled as he struggled to reconcile the facts before his eyes with what he knew of the man... a stoic loner with human contact limited to essentially stalking strangers, and a few sparse conversations (if they could be called that) with him. What would induce the man to dress up as if for a date? The only other people that Finch was aware of John ever having spoken to more than once were Fusco, and perhaps Carter... Carter.
Carter. That was it, Finch thought. As a result of Finch's little initiation ceremony while Reese was recuperating, events had progressed to the point where they had agreed to have John meet with her face-to-face. That could be the only reason why John was spritzed and smoothed. Finch really didn't understand Reese's infatuation with that woman. Yes, John was subtle about it, mostly. His constant questions and the look in his eyes to accompany the plea that Finch watch over Carter while he was incapacitated might seem like the innocently paranoid request of a hunted man had Finch not had the intel to know that Reese had been watching Carter a lot more closely than was strictly necessary. In fact, Finch suspected that Reese's "vigilance" actually put them in more danger than not – the woman was a very good cop. And yet Finch knew there was no way he would be able to dissuade Reese in this.
And she is dangerous, thought Finch. Reese's need to communicate with her had already led to John getting badly hurt. Why didn't he see the danger? Finch shook his head; because Reese couldn't see anything but an incorruptible, "honest to a fault", and very beautiful woman. For a man like Reese, with a history of being betrayed, it was no wonder those qualities were his quicksand. Finch was sure Reese could have his pick of very beautiful women should he put his mind to it, but the other qualities, along with the element of danger... What was anathema to most was manna for one who has always lived on the edge of danger; and really, Reese's desire for incorruptibility and honesty is why Finch chose to work with him, so he couldn't very well condemn him for also appreciating those very qualities.
So now Reese was getting ready for an extremely risky meeting with an ... an adversary, if not enemy, and he was preparing like it was a high school dance. Finch shook his head and hid a smile as he wondered what could possibly be going through John's head. Should he try to reel Reese in? To call him on this?
"You're looking particularly dapper today, John. Happy to finally be up and about?" Finch tested the waters.
John adjusted his already impeccable tie in the mirror, "What time am I meeting Carter? Have you made arrangements so that Fusco doesn't accidentally show up?"
"Everything's set, John, not to worry. Though maybe I should have arranged the meeting at somewhere more ...upscale," Finch commented with a pointed look at John's preparations.
Finch was greeted with a deadpan, characteristically inscrutable look. "I'll head out now, then. By the way, Finch, now that I'm up and about we don't really need this apartment anymore. I'll find my own accommodations again," he mentioned on his way out of the room.
Well, that was clear enough, thought Finch. I guess we're not bringing up the "date."
"Make sure you keep your cell phone on throughout your meeting with Carter," called Finch to the retreating back of John Reese. Finch sighed and brought up the cameras he'd located that had eyes on the arranged meeting place, as well as the microphone on Carter's phone. He'd be ready to turn on the microphone of whoever was sitting behind them, too; he figured it was only a 50/50 chance Reese would leave his phone on, despite the danger. He knew Reese well enough by now to know that Reese lived for danger, especially when danger was in the shape of one Jocelyn Carter.
As Carter slid into the booth a few minutes before their designated meeting time, she nervously checked her firearm and tried to inconspicuously check once more for Mark Snow's men – although she assumed that John Reese would be especially vigilant in that regard on his way to this meeting. She was as sure as she could be, when dealing with agents of that ilk, that she had lost the tail she'd been sporting for weeks. How long would they keep this up?
She noticed a flutter in her belly, an uncharacteristic bout of nerves as she thought about finally being able to look this elusive man full in the face, and speak directly to him, without either of them being in imminent danger. She unwillingly remembered the soulful eyes and the warm, solid weight of his body leaning heavily on her for the few seconds it took her to get him into that car a few weeks ago. His eyes had seemed positively locked to hers in those instants before she closed the door and the car rushed him off. Her body disobeyed orders again as that belly flutter got a bit stronger. Damn, why was she so nervous?
She told herself the nerves were because of the danger she was putting herself in by agreeing to this meeting. She knew that despite her change of heart allowing them to escape, this man and his partner must view her with extreme suspicion, given the outcome of her decision to contact Mr. Snow. She wasn't sure why it bothered her that he might see her as untrustworthy, but it did. She didn't know, after all, who he was or why he was doing what he was doing. Her gut told her he was a 'good guy,' even though he seemed all too familiar with an amazing range of not-so-good guys and had a knack for leaving a remarkable trail of chaos in his wake. Doing what her superiors and what her country asked of her was, to her, doing her duty the way she had always done – and done with excellence. Why did her 'duty' all of a sudden seem murky? Her whole life, her duty, and what was right had always been clear. Until John Reese. Around him, she wasn't as sure where right and wrong lay, and she didn't like it. She liked even less that her "duty" was seemingly more and more at odds with what seemed like the right thing. How could she do her job – or live her life for that matter – with integrity if Duty and Right were not clear? And would her damn stomach never stop doing flip-flops at the prospect of meeting face-to-face with someone she ought to consider a criminal?
Finally, the piercing eyes attached to one John Reese slipped into the seat across from her. From the moment of ocular contact, she couldn't seem to look away – she hoped briefly he was on the lookout for threats – and although the eyes were wary, she also thought she saw a hint of, incredibly, gentleness in them. At once she knew that John at least didn't hold the decisions which led to his injuries against her, and something inside her unwound just a bit at that realization. Her stomach didn't cease its flip-flops though, for even a second.